The Scar Series
by bkwrmgrl87
Summary: This is a series of one-shots that glimpse into the lives of the Potters that will revolve around or about Harry and his scars.
1. A Marked Man

The sun warmed the small lake, where the peace and solitude was a welcome relief for newly married Harry and Ginny Potter. It was mid-August and it was after a joined birthday celebration that they had then departed for their Honeymoon, for Ginny had had Holy Head Harpies try-outs soon after they had married earlier in the year.

Reflections were a funny thing, Harry thought wryly. The scars he had collected in his short lifetime, though it felt indefinitely longer, were clearly visible though they were slightly distorted. The scars drew his eyes, even after the years that separated from the time he had received them to now.

The monster that had given them to him was long gone. Six feet under in fact, but yet Voldemort's presence still haunted his dreams and woke him early in the morning sometimes, but it had gotten significantly better since marrying Ginny. These physical marks somehow showed just how much he had to be messed up inside. Harry knew not everything about the war was completely dealt with in his head, but he was working on it and someday he would be able to get a full night's sleep and be free of the guilt for surviving, when so many people he cared about didn't... A gentle hand covered his own, and his wife Ginny, oh how he loved to think "his wife," bumped her shoulder to his, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"I thought we were here to have fun, not brood. What are you thinking so hard about anyway? Is it the Collins case?"

Lifting the other hand into Ginny's beautiful fiery locks that he loved, Harry answered, "No, Ron and I were able to find evidence against Marcus Collins to have him put in Azkaban for a five-year sentence. I wasn't brooding-

"Of course you weren't."

"I'm fine. I was just examining our reflections." He said, ignoring her sarcasm.

Even if it was true that he might have been brooding... a little. It was amazing how well she could read him, and she only seemed to be improving the skill with time. But, he thought, it would be better to lighten the mood, and perhaps take their minds to a better, more exciting place.

"Your reflection is quite a one to see. I don't think there is a more beautiful sight here. It's very lucky that I seem to have you all to myself. Plus, with muggle-repelling charms we're quite alone, and I think we could have some fun here on this towel of ours."

He fully embraced his wife and gave her a cursory kiss on the lips, but before he could do much else, she stopped his roving hands by touching the oval scar that lay just between his collarbone. The scar where he had almost been drowned by the golden locket that had held a piece of Voldemort's soul if Ron hadn't have come just in the nick of time. Although it had been a few years since he received it, Harry thought he'd felt the spot was more sensitive to dark items. Harry mentally scoffed, nothing stops Honeymoon thoughts like a Horcrux. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, he hadn't ever thought that it would be Voldemort to disturb the two of them here, although he guessed it had been him to start it when he'd stared at those faded scars in his reflection.

"You were thinking of your scars, weren't you?" Ginny asked.

She knew him too well. That's why he knew they had been meant for one another. They had gone through so much, together and separately that they knew they had wanted to marry after life had settled down from the post-Riddle War efforts. She could practically read his mind sometimes, so much so that he was sure Mr. Weasley must have taught his daughter some form of legilimency.

He nodded.

Ginny pulled her feet out of the water, crossed them under her, and clasped his hands into her smaller ones. Harry copied her movements and faced her, knowing even this early into their marriage, that she wouldn't let him wallow in the mire, when he got into a mood.

"Just because you have a few of these scars still," her fingers ghosted over the scars on his forehead, chest, and then to the faint lightning bolt shaped scar over his heart indicating where he had been hit with the second killing curse, Avada Kadavra. "Doesn't mean it will always effect you forever."

Harry looked deeply into the dark, lovely brown eyes of his closest friend and beloved wife. She was so beautiful, and the seriousness of her tone moved him deeply to his very center. Ginny's hands gently squeezed his hands tighter in hers.

"You and I _will_ be better. The past is behind us and only good things are in store for us. Okay, so it won't be perfect. We will have bad things happen in our lives, and yes, we're going to explode and yell sometimes too, but we both love each other and deep down we know that we will always be there for one another. You might have nightmares that wake me up, but we both know that I will be there at night to calm you down, listening as we work through your insomnia. But you also stop me from keeping up my own facade I have as a safety net so that I don't feel vulnerable when trusting others. A scar of my own by Riddle. I support you and you support me. That's what spouses are for. We aren't perfect, but we're helping each other be our best selves. Together we're working through our problems and making sure we come out as sane as we ever were. If we ever were."

Harry laughed. Ginny always had that effect on him. She was always his shining sun, she was the most optimistic person he ever knew, and because of that, she could shake him from whatever mood he was in. Plus, she had a temper that rivaled his own, and she was a strong enough person to be able to handle being married to Harry Potter and all of the emotional baggage that came with it.

"I don't know about you, but with the childhood and growing up I had, I'm not sure sane really applies to me. But since you're with me, what should I be worrying about? You could take care of any crazed dark lord after my blood any day, better than I ever could." Harry said jokingly, but he knew it was still true.

"And don't you forget it!"

"Never," Harry leaned over and gently kissed her forehead.

"We'll fight this thing together Harry," she kissed his forehead, where he knew his lightning bolt scar was. "Now, just before I started this whole mind healer session, where were we again? Think you could remind me?"

Maybe time really did heal all wounds? Ginny certainly knew how precious time really was… oh yes.

Harry smirked.

"I think we were just about here…"


	2. A Twisted Toad

Scars: Twisted Toads

'Daddy, what's that?" an innocent voice asked.

Harry looked down as he felt a poke on his right hand that had been writing a report from his latest mission. James, who had recently just turned six years old, was staring curiously at a scar he had never seemed to notice before. Harry glanced at the barely legible words carved into his hand, "I must not tell lies."

"That is a scar I got in my youth." he said simply.

James had an annoyed expression on his face at the short answer. It looked so much like Ginny's look reserved for Harry that he had to stifle a laugh. She too didn't like when he skirted around a full answer with just the barest of details.

"I know that Daddy, but what's it say?"

In a quiet whisper Harry said, "Can you keep a secret?"

A look of pure excitement bubbled onto James' face. Harry chuckled. James couldn't keep the tone quiet, though he looked eager to please his father so that Harry would be more likely to tell this "secret" of his. Harry didn't much like to talk about his more disturbing school experiences, especially to his young son, but he knew he wouldn't have any peace otherwise.

"Yes, Daddy, yes! Please, please, please tell me! Please? I won't say anything! Promise!"

Harry pulled James onto his lap, as they sat in his small office at the Ministry. It was another, take your son to the ministry day, since Ginny had needed to personally drop off an article at the Prophet, so she had taken their other children to visit the Burrow with their cousins, Rose and Hugo, in the vigilant care of Molly Weasley. James, being the eldest, had been able to job shadow his father instead. Ron's office sat adjacent to his cubical, but with privacy charms installed, one rarely overheard conversations in the next stall over.

"It says "I must not tell lies."" Harry just _knew_ he was opening a full can of worms with this. "I got this particular scar when I was fifteen at Hogwarts. Hogwarts. The best place besides the Burrow to be in my opinion. Have I ever told you the time when your Uncle Ron decided to eat a box of chocolate caul…"

"Dad, I want to know what those funny scars means." James wasn't to be distracted. Another trait he apparently received from Ginny. Well then.

"Okay," Harry conceded. "When I got these funny scars, thought it wasn't so much a laughing matter then, it was in a detention from a Professor who thought I was lying about a bad man coming back when he had disappeared for a long time. Because I was telling the truth the bad lady was mad at me and wanted to punish me and had me write "I must not tell lies" with a special quill of hers. I won't go into the mechanics of it, but I'll just say that it was a special quill that put the lines I wrote on parchment, into the back of my hand. As you can see I still have the scars from those detentions. The End."

"But how come Granny Weasley can't fix it? I had a cut on my knee last week and it bled a whole bucket of blood when I fell when I was running around the back of the Burrow chasing the chickens. Have you see the chickens! They're laying eggs this year Granny said! I bet she would fix your hand for you if you asked her nicely, Daddy. Especially if you give her a big hug before and tell her she's the bestest ever, 'cause she is, and axe her please. Oh, and if you tell her something nice about how she fixes stuff I bet she could help you git rid of those words. She loves to help me when I get hurt."

Harry down at his oldest and most verbose son. James, with his dark and messy hair – a continual Potter trait - and those trusting brown eyes he had also inherited from his mother. There wasn't anything he could ever deny is son. Those trusting eyes, knowing that his grandmother could fix any kind of injury had by a rough and tumble boy like James. Harry briefly pressed his lips to the top of the boy's head and gently said, "That's a good idea, son. Next time I see her I'll be sure to ask."

"I wanna go see Uncle Ron! He said he had a cool invention he was workin' with Uncle George so they could sell in the shop soon!"

Off the boy went, directly into the correct cubical, and straight into the watchful care of Uncle Ron.

Harry glanced down at his fist again. James didn't need to know that it was quite impossible to fix a scar gained so many years before. Not only that, but with the detentions such a distant memory now, it hardly mattered to Harry anymore. Sure, the toad had made her mark on him, but he felt that he had moved passed that dark time in his life and he was completely content in life.

He had a brilliant family that had taken him in without a thought, four wonderful children (since Teddy Lupin was raised and treated as one of his own children), and a beautiful wife that only seemed to get more gorgeous every single year. Especially since he couldn't seem to keep his eyes or hands away from her magnificent body. But if last night was any indication, she didn't seem to mind.

Harry was startled from his daydreams when a familiar voice purred softly from the doorway, "Now, now Mr. Potter. Wipe that droop off your chin this minute. One might think you're getting old – drooling at your age? What could have prompted such a thing?"

Harry's eyes zoomed quickly over the amazing visage that was his wife, Ginny Potter née Weasley. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I was not drooling, for your information. I was just reliving a happy memory from last night. I didn't think you assumed I was acting anything close to what one would consider old then. Or would you like another demonstration?"

Ginny walked into the office confidently, sat herself onto his lap and wrapped her slender arms around his neck. She leaned in and quietly whispered just the kind of demonstration he'd have to do in order to convince her he wasn't as old as the drool seemed to indicate.

Harry pulled her into a passionate kiss until they were awakened to their surroundings by a deep voice saying, "Oi! Would you cut that out already? Isn't it bad enough you subject me and your poor children to this every Sunday dinner at the Burrow? Please, your very young son is getting quite the eye full and I want no part in seeing this either!"

The voice, Harry quickly recognized, was of his Auror partner and first friend, Ron Weasley.

Harry smiled deviously.

"Well that's only payback for the eyeful I had to see when I was trying to have a kip one lazy afternoon at the Burrow when we were twenty and Hermione was twen…"

Ron's ears quickly burned red and Ginny laughed deeply as she left Harry's lap in order to take their son from Ron.

"Oi! Ok, ok! I get the picture. Keep it down, will you? Merlin's beard. Do you have to bring that up every time? It was once, many years ago!" Ron grumbled, clearly embarrassed and aggravated.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Ginny cut across his smart remark as she headed for the doorway and past Ron.

"Well, boys, we'll be off. Would you like to see Granny Weasley, Jamie? Then we can see if we can't find a biscuit for you. Bye Ron. Later lover, I'll want that demonstration later." She said with a saucy wink.

"Lalalala…. I can't hear you!" said Ron, clasping his hands over his ears.

Ginny laughed again and said, "Stop being such a baby, Ron. We've only been married for more than ten years and then some. Surely you've become used to the idea by now?"

"Just because I recognize the fact you two are married doesn't mean I want to see, hear, or know any more about your marriage than that!"

With another wave and a quick hug and kiss from James, Harry watched as Ginny left hand in hand with their son. His eyes followed them as they disappeared down the hallway chattering the whole way until he couldn't see or hear them anymore.


	3. The Chosen Child

"We're going to need two more boxes of Puking Pasties and another batch of Exploding Éclairs!" Uncle Ron's voice sounded just to the right of Al. "Closing in fifteen minutes!"

Al was restocking the shelves a week before the start of his second year. Every year since he was big enough to lift more than ten pounds he had been able to help his uncles George and Ron Weasley at their store they managed in Diagon Alley, Weasley Wizard Wheezes. It was especially busy for them just before the start of a new school year at Hogwarts. It was chaotic and he loved it.

Immediately he hurried back to the storage room and gathered the requested items and placed them on the counter next to Uncle Ron at the till. A nod of gratitude, and then it was business as usual. The thunk of the till drawer and tinkling of coins assured Al that Uncle Ron had been able to make the last sale of the day.

Just before Al's mum arrived to pick him up from another very busy day at work, he thought of something he had been meaning to ask Uncle Ron for a long time. Now that Albus had been to school, had history lessons and heard gossip from other students he knew just how famous his Dad was because of the Riddle War.

Whenever people would flock to his dad to thank him for his services, Al had always just assumed it was because of his dad's Head Auror position within the Ministry of Magic. Al hadn't ever heard from his parents to have him believe otherwise. What had always been Al's favorite thing about his dad was the wicked scar on his forehead that was in the shape of a lightning bolt. After going to Hogwarts and hearing all of the rumours around it, he reassessed the interest in the scar and wondered what the truth really was.

Thankfully, he knew he could get answers and felt safe that his uncles could give him truthful answers. He should go to his father, but the thought of going to his dad was ridiculous. It was common knowledge between the Potter children that Dad never talked about his past. He never discouraged questions, but his dad was pretty tight-lipped about the whole affair.

Walking back into the tiny office that had the 'Employees Only' sign on it, where he knew Uncle Ron was accounting all of the sales that had been made today, he settled close to the tall wizard and waited until there was a break in between the scratching of the quill.

"Can I ask you something, Uncle Ron?"

"Sure Al. What's going on?" Uncle Ron set down his quill and turned slightly in his chair to face him.

Al paused and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the sudden grin his uncle gave him and asked his queries in one breath, "Why does Dad have that lightning bolt scar on his forehead? What does it mean?"

Uncle Ron didn't answer immediately. That worried him. Usually, Uncle Ron was one to crack a joke and have a funny answer to even the most serious of questions, but then again, Al knew the bond between Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, and his dad. Perhaps some of the rumours were true. Dad absolutely avoided talking about his scar or how'd he received it.

"I'm not sure I'm the one to tell you Al. It's up to your dad to tell you the hows and whys of that scar. It's kind of personal and even though I'm one of his best friends I don't think he'd like it if I told you. If your parents haven't told you already I wouldn't feel right if I told you something they had wanted to keep back for whatever reason." Uncle Ron explained.

"I always knew this would come to bite your father and me in the behind one of these days. Our children are way too curious, sneaky and adventurous to keep the truth for very long. I blame Harry for passing most of those traits onto our kids, he _was_ always the one gallivanting around the country like a hero." said a female voice behind Al.

It was his Mum, Ginny Potter who had spoken and Uncle George came through the door right behind her. They walked into the room and Uncle George shut the door and crammed into the small office that barely fit everyone.

"Yes," Uncle Ron chimed in. "But who was the one to play professional Quidditch player and broke nearly every bone in their body at one time or another before they called it quits? Not to mention said player also went gallivanting across the i world/i to play and wasn't such an innocent kid as people are lead to believe. I distinctly remember knowing a nosy seven-year-old girl who had gone downstairs one night and caught her parents…"

"Eww, eww, eww! We DO NOT discuss that horrible topic. I had nightmares for weeks! All I wanted was a drink of water! Why did I ever tell you that incident anyway?"

Uncle George and Ron guffawed while both mother and child turned a nasty shade of green.

"Because you were sloshed drunk and don't seem to have a filter on your mouth when you're intoxicated." Uncle Ron said smugly.

''Thanks Ron, not only have you told George, but you've scarred Al's mind too. I wouldn't worry about George, he doesn't have that much left to lose."

"Hey!" Uncle George said indignantly.

"You are _so_ dead; you know that right?" Mum said with the scariest expression on her face. Al could see torture and pain for Uncle Ron in those mischievous eyes and the sly smile.

Al turned to his uncle and saw him go pale. Mum only chuckled and rubbed her hands together in glee. Payback would be awful for Uncle Ron.

"Ginny! I don't think you need to do anything drastic! George won't say a word or do anything to you… ever!"

Uncle George coughed and Al was sure he heard him say, 'Yeah right.' and that's when Uncle Ron really went white as a ghost.

"You can't kill me! I'm Harry's best friend and he'd know something isn't right when we don't see each other. He's the Head of the Auror department and then he'd have to arrest you!"

"Best friend, huh? Hermione will think that's quite a bold thing to say, Ron," said Mum nonchalant.

Uncle Ron looked small and weak in his chair, which was quite the feat for Ron's lanky form, and Al was starting to worry about his health. Aunt Hermione probably wouldn't take it too kindly if Mum told her what Uncle Ron had just said. Uncle George started laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. Mum only smirked.

"I won't kill you, but even if I did, I'm sure I would like it just as much as Harry would if he had to put me in bondage and tie me up." Uncle Ron and Al both gagged and nearly lost their lunch to the mental image. Uncle Ron looked like he was about to faint. Uncle George was in fits, nearly on the floor with laughter. Al wasn't sure if anyone would make it out of the room alive.

"But we've gotten drastically off topic from the one Al started here. He asked why Harry had the lightning bolt scar, and I think we should call him over and have him answer your questions, Al." Mum thankfully changed to a subject that didn't turn his stomach or have his ears and neck flame with embarrassment. He would finally get some answers. But since his father never seemed too keen to answer inquiries of his past, he was a little surprised his Mum would suggest such a thing.

"Oh, ok. I just didn't think he liked to talk about it, Mum?" Al asked hesitantly.

"No, he doesn't, but I know he'd want to be able to talk to you personally. I'll ask him to come now." Ginny responded as she took out her wand out of her purse and her patronus of a mare burst forth and galloped away. Obviously sent to the ministry and to his dad's office.

Not much later a knock on the back door and a head of jet-black hair and the tall form of Harry Potter entered the cramped office of Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

Al gulped. Now that the moment was here, he wasn't sure he could go through with it. That was silly, he was a Gryffindor after all, and his dad probably left something important at the ministry. Well, guess it was now or never. Who knows when he'd get this opportunity.

"So, Al, you had a question for me?" said his dad. His face a carefully neutral expression.

"Er… yeah, I wondered. Ah, I wondered how and why you have the scar on your forehead? At school, I've just been hearing some things - not that I believe them! But, I just wondered if any of them were true." Al paused, unsure how his dad would react to his admission.

His mum walked over to his dad and hugged him briefly. It was getting warm standing around the small room. Al tugged at his work collar.

"Why don't we go do this in a more comfortable place. The house perhaps?" suggested his mum.

Uncle Ron added. "Yeah, George and I have to finish up closing up the shop. We'll see you guys Sunday at the Burrow." He then turned to Al. "You can come by the shop tomorrow same time if you'd like."

"Okay. See you guys later, bye Uncle George."

The Potter's quickly left the shop and went down to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home with Al. Dad answered Mum's inquiry about whether it was alright that he left the ministry in such short notice, by which he said, "It wasn't a problem Gin, I was just about finished with the day's work anyway."

In short order, the Potters were sitting down in their cozy kitchen, a pot of tea in the middle of the table with Al and his parents facing each other over a plate of sweet biscuits. As usual, his mum and dad were sitting close with their hands tightly clasped.

More to do something with his hands than actual hunger, Al quickly snatched a biscuit and all but shoved it in his mouth. Absently he wondered where his siblings were. As if he had read his mind, his dad asked, "Gin, where are Lily and James? There is no way that they are this quiet on holiday."

"Oh, Lily wanted to play with Rosey and Hugo before dinner, which I told Hermione I'd pick her up in an hour, and James said he was going over to the Jordan's to work on some summer "homework." At this, his mum rolled her eyes in disbelief.

"The day James does his homework well in advance, I'll eat my wand." Commented his dad with a slight smirk and an equal look of skepticism. Suddenly he turned back to Al and a feeling of anxious anticipation and excitement rekindled in Al's stomach. "So Al, you had a question?"

"As I said before, I know you don't like to talk about it Dad, but now that I'm at Hogwarts I've just heard a lot about the Riddle War, and I wasn't sure if what I've been hearing was right. I've always liked your scar, but… er… there's been talk of it being a curse scar that … that has some otherworldly powers." He said hesitantly.

It sounded stupid. Otherworldly powers? Why did he even open his mouth in the first place? Wanting to bang his head on the table in disgust, but resisting the urge, Al peered cautiously up at his dad's face.

His dad had a look of resignation. Shaking his head, his dad tightly said, "That's a complicated question Albus, with a really long answer. Probably far too long a discussion if we're to have dinner tonight. How about the abridged version, and when you're older and have more specific questions, you can ask them? Sound reasonable?"

Al nodded, that was a lot more than he was anticipating.

"Well, it started before I was even born. A prophecy was told to your namesake Al, Albus Dumbledore, and a servant of Tom Riddle overheard and rushed off to tell his master." Here his father took a quick drink from his cooling tea, but after a moment he resumed his story. "After a time Riddle decided to act in what he thought was the best way and ended up attacking me and my parents on Halloween night. That is where I got this scar." His dad said as he lifted up his bangs and showed Al the scar that had been so fascinating during his childhood.

"That night more than this scar happened between me and Riddle. A connection formed between him and me, though I wouldn't realize that for several years. This connection allowed me to see into his mind and I would get pains from time to time when Riddle was in his most powerful during the Riddle War. It wasn't until after the Final Battle that I was able to sever the bond between us and I could move on from the burdens of the prophecy. I won't tell you what the prophecy says, but I will say that it basically foretold of a boy that could stop Riddle and that could have meant me or Neville Longbottom."

With a start at the familiar name, Albus jumped and said hoarsely, "It could have meant Professor Longbottom too?"

A wry smile graced his father's face as he nodded. His mother then turned to Al and added, "Yes, it could have been Neville, but Riddle saw a little bit of himself in your dad, and that Al, is why your dad has the lightning bolt scar. There's more to the scar than meets the eye, but I think that's enough for one day. Wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

Al was a little disappointed, but he respected his parents enough to realize that things were probably too much for a twelve-year-old. Not that it didn't irk that his curiosity couldn't be fully sated, but for the moment it was pretty good since none of the Potters could get their dad to really open up.

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks, Mum and Dad." In a move that both surprised and pleased his parents, Al quickly hugged each of his parents and gave his mum a kiss on the cheek. "I really appreciate the answers, Dad, maybe we could talk when we have more time and I can think over what you've told me?"

His dad looked deeply into his matching set of eyes and spoke barely above a whisper. "You can ask me anything, anytime. I might need to make some edits when I consider your age and knowledge, but I will never lie to you. I remember being a teenager and feeling like no one trusted me, even though I had gone through some pretty tough stuff. It was frustrating and I hated not knowing. But you remember Albus Severus Potter, I will _always_ be here to answer your questions. Your Mum too. We are here for you Al."

With that, his dad swept him into a tight hug and both father and son em aced for several seconds. A loud bang of the front door oke the pair apart. Then a loud voice shouted clearly from the entry way.

"I'm home! Hey Mum, what's for dinner? I'm starved!"

"And the chaos returns." muttered Al's mum as James Potter zoomed into the kitchen and the family settled into their usual dinner routine.


	4. Bound by Blood

Lily was curious. Dad's study was just asking to be explored. She had definitely inherited that trait from him.

It was the summer after her fifth year at Hogwarts, three days into the holidays and already she was bored of her family but most especially peeved with her brothers. James had already graduated, but he was in the middle of moving out – for the last two month - and didn't seem to be any closer. Al wasn't helping her mood either, with his lost puppy look he had whenever Lacy Jordan wasn't attached to his lips. Eww... Anything, like kissing or snogging, was not enjoyable to watch, especially if it had anything to do with any of her immediate family. Doubt eww. Not only was Al an embarrassment, but her parents were even worst. They could hardly keep their hands to themselves. They were too old for that kind of things. Ugh, definitely a triple eww.

Lily had had a boyfriend last year at school and she enjoyed kissing as much as any other girl, but things didn't end well when Matthew Williams wanted more than she wanted to give. Not to mention she thought he was a royal git since he related how he didn't consider the Holy Head Harpies a real Quidditch team because it was all just a bunch of girls on brooms. She'd have to ask Uncle George for a little something for _dear_ Matthew, to remind him that girls are just as competent as boys. Better even.

Lifting the Invisibility Cloak from Al's trunk had been too easy, so Lily covered herself and let herself into the study. Mum and Dad were on a date for the next hour or two, James was who knew where, and Al was probably writing Lacy for the thirteenth time since he had come home. So wearing the cloak might have been an overkill, but with fantastical stories from her uncles, her family seemed to have had all the adventures and she wanted one for herself. Plus, pulling one over her annoying brothers was always a bonus.

Silently chuckling, Lily made her way to the desk to see what might be of interest. Several wonderful ideas popped into her head. The most exciting one was something her cousin had come up with not very long ago. Rose Weasley had explained what a pensieve was and how it worked just a week ago, and Lily hoped that her dad had one. Since he was an important member of the department of magical law, she hoped he might have put some memories from the war in it, or if she were lucky it would show her something of what his teenage years had been like. Her family never really talked about what the return and end of the Riddle's War was like either.

She knew, just like her brothers did, that their dad never talked about the war and he probably never would. Since she was here, she might as well have a look see. Now, where would he put it? Maybe in the bottom drawer here…?

After twenty minutes of careful searching, the study clock chimed the seventh time and went silent when she found her dad's pensieve behind some large tomes her Aunt Hermione had given him two Christmases ago. Grinning like a mad woman, Lily settled the memory device gently her dad's desk, pushing pictures her parents, family, and a loose newspaper clipping of a plump woman being arrested. Taking a pause to stare at this odd occurrence, she read the clipping of a woman who was being taken to trial for helping with some sort of muggle-born committee. Weird. Dad usually didn't keep any kind of clippings from the paper at the house, maybe she was a close friend that got drawn into the wrong side of the war? Perhaps she'd have to ask her Uncle Ron about it later. But that would be when she wasn't here in her dad's office with the cloak on and sneaking around.

Now that she had the pensieve she wasn't sure she could go through with it. It was a very personal place to be. She would practically be in her dad's mind. What if they had something to do with a case he was working on? What if he'd get in trouble with Minister Shacklebolt?

Curiosity killed the cat. Her Aunt Hermione's voice chimed in on the matter.

Anything's worth it if you've got enough nerves. Insisted a voice sounding suspiciously like Uncle George.

Nodding in agreement to the second voice, Lily stuffed the cloak into her pocket that held her wand and boldly lowered her face just over the gas-like liquid and felt the odd sensation of falling…

Darkness and shadows. Lily looked around her and it was night-time and she was outside, in a graveyard. It wasn't in Godric's Hollow like she had first initially thought when she saw the markers. She had been to visit her grandparents, her grandfather's best friends, and Teddy's mum's graveyard many times in her life, and she knew almost immediately that this wasn't the same one. It was darker and creepier, especially since it seemed to be very late at night. A muffled cry of pain behind her made her turn and instinctively feel for her wand.

Bound tightly to a tombstone sat a frightened, gagged, and immensely young looking Harry Potter. Jogging to his side, Lily took in his familiar features and hazarded a guess that he was just about her age, fourteen or maybe just turning fifteen, and things didn't look good for him at all. A short, rat faced man was putting blood from a long opened wound on her dad's forearm into a glass vial and walked away with it to a large cauldron as big as a man. What could he want with that? Just watching this her heart was beating frantically against her ribcage, and she knew if the roles were switched she would have probably dropped off in a dead faint, or going into hysterics that would have meant getting a stunner at the very least. The blood oozed from the arm wound, and she wondered if there was a scar on her dad's arm, she had never noticed.

So lost in this horrible memory, possibly a coming nightmare for her, she didn't notice her silent companion. Harry Potter, Head Auror for the Ministry of Magic, was watching almost dispassionately as a murdering dark wizard was attacked by spectral ghostly figures as the memory came to a close. Shaking from both the memories and being caught red handed, Lily flinched as her Dad squeezed her shoulder and gently wrapped the other hand around her elbow and silently lifted her up and out of his pensieve.

Once again in her dad's study, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds Lily was shaken out of her stupor and shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the fireworks to start. Although it wasn't often directed at her, she knew her dad could have quite the temper, if provoked. What she wasn't expecting was to hear her father sigh and make his way to his desk and sit down heavily. Knowing she couldn't ignore or get out of this one she sat on the chair facing his desk, but didn't look up to meet her father's gaze. She knew she looked guilty, how could she not?

She had never violated this kind of thing. Her father's office wasn't strictly off limits, but the Potter children knew it wasn't a place to be if he wasn't around to know what was going on in his part of the house. For all she knew, maybe he had set off an alarm to know if someone trespassed into it? Why hadn't she…

'I hope you know what you did was wrong, Lily Luna Potter.' said her dad sternly.

But Lily could see the tense way his shoulders were set and the expression of great disappointment in his eyes. He had also called her by her full name too. Shamefaced she looked down again.

'I know.'

'Why…' He started.

'Did I do it?' she looked up and saw him nod. 'Because Rose was telling me about pensieves and since you knew Albus Dumbledore and are the Head of the Aurors I figured you had one. I was curious how it really worked and I thought I could find something about your past! You never talk about what your growing up years were like, and I've always wondered. I'm sorry. I'm sorry to see that memory, I know I shouldn't have, and I know it was a very personal thing to do but…' she cut off herself. She was rambling so she just left it open for her dad to lecture her about ownership and personal property, if he so chose.

'How many memories did you see? Was it only that one I found you in? I hope you know the serious consequences there could have been if it had been a work related memory and not just a memory from my school days.' Tiredness leaked almost physically from this admission.

Lily had thought of that, but had ignored her more sensible self for a few bits of 'fun'.

"Just that one…" she whispered.

Finally looking into her Dad's eyes she saw the hurt and seriousness in them. She also saw how his trust in her had been broken between them and that hurt her too. But seeing the betrayal there made her heart seize and break into a million pieces. Suddenly her throat closed up and the sobs came.

'I'm… hic … sorry! I knew… I knew I shouldn't have. Your cases with work… you could have been… hic… in trouble with… hic… Shacklebolt!' her voiced away died then. After a few minutes she felt her dad scoop her up and place her in his lap, and held her tightly.

It reminded her of a similar position when he had picked her up from the ground when she was five and had fallen from a tree in the park near their home. He had sat her on his lap then too, and murmured into her ear until she calmed down, and just like when she was five, when her tears dried up and she took her arms from around his neck he gave her that reassuring look and gently kissed the crown of her head.

'I really am sorry Dad, I knew what I might have found, but you've never told me any school stories and I was just curious. Do you forgive me? I'll accept my punishment, no matter what it is.' Lily said sincerely as she wiped away her tears and blew her nose on a handkerchief her father offered her.

'I know you are Lily, and for punishment you will have your broom taken away for a week, and no floo calling for at least two weeks for the invasion of my privacy.' he said calmly. 'Plus, any chores your mother might have for you during the rest of the holidays.'

Lily nodded, she had expected something like that.

'I'm sorry too.'

'What?' her head shot up so fast she nearly hit her father's chin. 'Why are you apologizing?'

Dad shook his head and had the oddest expression, almost a mix of resignation and embarrassment, perhaps.

'I should have told you and your brothers more of my growing up, so then you might have not wandered so willingly into my past because you never knew what it was like for me back then. I wanted to keep you and your brothers from all of the horrible memories I had. Nor did I want all of the fame going to your heads or changing your perception of me because of it. It is also humbling to me because in my youth, several times in fact, I have chosen to look in pensieves and seen things I oughtn't.' he shuddered with those last words and Lily wondered what he had seen. Had it been worst then what she had just witnessed? Wow, those must be some awful memories then.

Not wanting to upset her dad more than she already had, delicately she asked something that had been burning in her mind since she saw the rat man take a knife to her dad in the graveyard.

'Why did that… Lord Voldemort?' he nodded yes. 'Why did he have your blood taken and use it in that potion thing? I don't understand.'

He paused, sighed and then began the story from before he was born that lead to what had happened to him in the graveyard so many years ago.

A/N: I know it seems like Harry is contradicting himself when he states he hasn't told his children anything about his youth, since these one-shots are all happening within the same universe, but I think that it would make sense if Harry is only taking these specific moments to tell of his harrowing childhood. These experience aren't being shared until they come to him personally and just ask him to tell his story that he would rehash the whole story with his children in their own due time. Tell me what you think, does that make enough sense?


End file.
